


What Will Be, Will Be

by Qu-ko (Quthemighty)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tanabata, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24444697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quthemighty/pseuds/Qu-ko
Summary: If Orihime herself fell from the sky this very moment and offered to grant her one wish, she could ask for nothing more. That is the impulse that goes through her once their lips touch, and she is swept away.[there is very little content for this ship, much less smut for it, and that's a damn tragedy]
Relationships: Cirina Mol/Hien Rijin
Kudos: 26





	What Will Be, Will Be

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot of hot PWP garbage in which I play with the "caught in a downpour" trope on Tanabata. Don't mind me.
> 
> Also, Yugiri is a dirty ship enabler.

“ _The stars are bright tonight, child.”_

_Cirina inclines her head in obvious confusion. “Yes, Grandmother.”_

“ _And the gods whisper of a reunion in the sky.” The elder tilts her gaze upward, causing the younger girl to do the same. “Of wishes granted, if not in the way we might desire them. ‘Tis a night of revelry in Doma, I have heard.”_

“ _Truly? That sounds nice… But whatever makes you bring this up, I wonder?”_

“ _Go to the enclave.”_

“ _Eh?” Cirina snaps back from her thoughts, suddenly flustered. “Go… to Doma? I couldn’t possibly— I mean, the migration is so soon, and the gods—”_

“ _Have seen fit to give you leave, as heir of the Mol.” Temulun smiles mysteriously, then moves to return to the large yurt. “Go.”_

_It’s only when she is out of earshot that she adds, “Clear the air between you.”_

The Doman Enclave has changed dramatically since the last time she stepped foot upon its soil.

For one, there are lights. They’re _everywhere_. Brightly lit stalls selling food and drink and trinkets, bobbing paper lanterns overhead, and so many, many people — did the enclave always have this many people? Perhaps some are foreigners; perhaps the Warrior of Light is among them. But as she bids her yol rest for a while, she notices the different mode of dress nearly all of them don…

“Cirina!” Yugiri calls to her, ever the first to notice a new arrival. “What brings you to the enclave this evening? Have you need for more supplies? Or perchance…” she pauses, “perchance you are here for the festival?”

“Ah,” she says, caught off-guard. “I— I suppose I am. Grandmother bid me to…”

She doesn’t finish the statement, but she doesn’t need to. Yugiri smiles, and it’s just as mysterious, if not conspiratorial, as the one Temulun gave her. “That is well, then. Hien will be overjoyed. If you would like to participate, can I interest you in trying on a yukata?”

“Yukata?” Cirina echoes. “The robes everyone is wearing?”

“Aye.” Though Yugiri herself is conspicuously still in her armor, it’s easy to assume she has taken it upon herself to perform guard duty. Or perhaps was simply too modest to change… “They are quite light, and keep the body cool on a hot night like this one. We’ve many spares, as we’ve welcomed a number of visitors to the festival tonight to thank our foreign benefactors. I would be glad to assist you, and then I can fetch Lord Hien—”

“That,” a flustered pause, “that surely isn’t necessary…”

“Nonsense. That is to say, after you left so quickly last time, I think he would be overjoyed to set aside some time for you, so rarely does he see you these days.” She almost expects Yugiri to wink at her with the tone she uses, but her smile does the job well enough.

This is going to be troublesome. It’s all she can do not to turn tail and leave again, but that would be terribly inappropriate. So Cirina gives up, breathes a small sigh, and then lifts her head.

“…All right. I would very much appreciate your help.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


It turns out Yugiri need not fetch Hien at all, in the end. He finds them instead.

“Yugiri!” he calls jovially, pulling at the flaps of his haori. “And what have we here? ‘Tis a pleasure to see you, Cirina, and on such an auspicious occasion!”

The yukata is so light and airy that she feels almost underdressed in it. Yugiri had picked out a red one adorned with white cherry blossoms for her, had helped her layer and fasten everything properly. It is comfortable, but somehow… somehow, she feels…

“My lord,” Yugiri says cordially. “It appears my powers of persuasion are improving. She has chosen to stay this time.”

Cirina smiles thinly. “Hello, Lord Hien. It has been too long.”

“That it has,” he agrees. “And that you would choose to visit on Tanabata of all days is indeed fortunate; Yugiri has chosen a beautiful yukata for a beautiful girl. Then, would you do me the honor of accompanying me about the festival for a while?”

Cheeks turning a little pink under her scales, her eyes slide to Yugiri, who is already putting distance between herself and the two of them.

“I shall return to guard duty,” she says. “Please pay me no mind.”

“You know, the festival’s not going to wait for you to change your mind!” he remarks lightly as she darts off towards a side street. “That Yugiri… I’ve been trying all night to convince her to come off her self-imposed ‘guard duty’ and have some fun with us. I suspect she may be shy about the yukata.”

“Perhaps she is easing back so that _you_ may enjoy yourself without hesitation,” Cirina suggests, with full knowledge that such occasions must be few and far between.

“You may be right. And yet, it feels like such an unfair exchange.” He turns, offering her a brilliant smile she has never seen before, and her breath catches. “Shall we? I would very much like to show you all that we have to offer.”

“I’ll bet there’s a lot of good food,” she ventures, feeling her hope rising a little.

“Aye, that’s half the fun of a festival. Come, let us partake!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


It is not long into their exploration of the food stalls that the air grows heavy with humidity and petrichor, and soon the sky opens up on all of them. People huddle under awnings for cover, and Cirina hears various disappointed comments about how it “always rains” on Tanabata.

“I would call it a running joke, but I’m afraid there’s a certain truth to it,” Hien says wryly when she asks. “Come. Yugiri said she has left your clothing in the Kienkan.”

As though she’d been predicting this very scenario, she thinks to herself. Surely not, however; even the skywatchers seem surprised at the sudden downpour.

Even dashing at top speed, a feat made significantly more difficult by the nature of her wooden footwear, they’re both soaked through by the time they reach Hien’s residence. Why she decides to go inside without question, she doesn’t know — perhaps it’s the rain, or perhaps it’s the fact she’s simply along for the ride at this point. Either way, she feels bad for dripping all over his perfect floor.

“You’re soaked,” Hien says. “And shivering.”

“So are you,” Cirina points out helpfully. “You should change. Even a summer rain can see one catching cold.”

“Aye, aye, I understand. Now, where did Yugiri leave your clothes…”

He ambles through a number of side rooms, glancing quickly at the floors to make sure there are no folded pink robes within. His brow creases; that’s odd… surely she would have left them in one of the guest rooms, just in case?

Cirina is about to join the search when Hien says, “Aha!” She doesn’t realize until the deed is already done that she is stepping into _his_ room, with two pairs of clothing changes set out. One for him, one for her.

Oh. That is…

“Odd.” Hien completes the sentiment. “Why would she…?”

“Could she have maybe just… forgotten?”

He hums, sounding doubtful. “Whatever the reason, I will take mine to another room. Please take all the time you need to change.”

Hien has his hand on the sliding door to close it when she calls, “Wait!” The request is quick to make him freeze, turning back to her.

“Have you need of something?”

“How… How do I take this off?”

It’s hardly something she needs him for. She doesn’t know why she even asks, why she needs him to stay and baby her through such a simple process. Enough pulling and nudging at the fastenings should cause it to drop open easily enough.

Hien looks at her long and hard, evaluating his options. She knows through him that Domans, though a private people, consider nudity to be unremarkable. But the look on his face is strange as he weighs the merits of something behind his eyes…

“Are you all right if I untie your obi?”

“Yes,” she says, running hands down her wet arms, over the scales along her forearms. Still dripping, he pulls at… something, she isn’t quite sure what, and the whole thing loosens up, the back of the sash falling free.

“There.” He steps back, out of the puddle that has formed at his feet.

“I’m sorry. Now the floor is wet.”

“You need not apologize, unless the gods of the Mol have somehow conspired to rain upon our festival themselves.”

 _Maybe_ _they did_ _,_ she thinks as she recalls the circumstances of her having come here at all. Did the gods plan this for her? To what end?

With that, he takes his leave, and Cirina looks down at herself, slowly opening up the yukata and folding each article up gingerly, placing the wet clothing on the floor rather than on his bed where her usual garb lies. Feeling the comfortable weight of leather upon her shoulders once more eases her mind, and her body as well, though she cannot help but feel a slight chill anyway despite having changed.

Once she emerges, she finds Hien glancing out the front door. All the lights from before have gone out, except for the lightning flash overhead. A roar of thunder follows. He grimaces. “Alas, that appears to be the end of our festival for now. And I’d hardly encourage you to ride home in a storm like this. Would you like some tea?”

“I’m fine,” Cirina says, running hands self-consciously through her damp hair. “Are you sure it’s all right to stay? This storm could go for hours, and it’s already quite late…”

“I’m quite sure. I would not deny you in your time of need, minor though it may be. I owe you and your tribe more than just my life.”

She presses her lips together. Ah, it’s that yearning sensation again…

“Tell me, Cirina, have you heard the origin story of Tanabata? Of Hikoboshi and Orihime?”

“Oh— No, I haven’t.” She kneels upon a cushion in the middle of the room. “It was something about two lovers, was it not?”

“Aye.” He steps away from the door, grabs a kettle from a nearby table, and fills a fine porcelain cup with it; it looks like foreign ware. “Orihime, the Weaving Princess, wove her cloth by the heavenly river night and day. Her work never stopped, and she lamented her inability to meet or fall in love with another. So, concerned for his daughter’s well-being, the god of the heavens arranged for her to meet Hikoboshi, a cow herder from far away.”

A story not completely unheard of among the Steppe’s tribes, she thinks, if only without the heavenly aspects. She leans forward as he sets his cup on the low table and sits upon a cushion next to her, warming to his tale.

“Naturally, they fell in love right away and married shortly thereafter. But Orihime soon ceased to weave for her father, and Hikoboshi allowed his cows to roam across heaven freely, so her father quickly separated them to opposite sides of the river and forbade them to meet ever again.”

Hien takes a sip of his tea, shifting a bit. “So Orihime cried and cried, pleading with her father to allow them to stay together. He was moved by her tears, and decreed that she and her lover could meet once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, if Orihime finished her weaving dutifully.”

“So, today is that day,” Cirina says thoughtfully. “I hope that they have found comfort with each other in heaven.”

“I’m afraid that is unlikely,” Hien replies with a wan smile. “The very first year of Tanabata saw the river too difficult to cross, so a flock of magpies came to become a bridge for Orihime. But if it rains, it is said that the magpies will not come. ‘Tis why we wish for fair weather on this day, but…”

She ducks her head, furrowing her brow. “That’s strange,” she says, but does not elaborate immediately.

“What is? The rain?”

“No, no. It’s just… Grandmother bade me to come here, speaking of lovers reunited. But if the gods did not mean Orihime and Hikoboshi when they spoke… then who?”

When she looks up, she finds Hien staring at her curiously. He seems to react upon eye contact, his expression changing, and for an instant, she is sure she sees surprise writ upon his face.

“Hien…” Her eyes fall to the table, to the depths of his exquisite teacup. Royalty. Married to his duty. To his country. And yet… “That comment about me being beautiful earlier…”

“Ah, that?” He clicks his teeth together and grins sheepishly. It’s boyish in a way she has only rarely had the privilege to witness. “Have you known me to lie about such things?”

“I respect your opinion,” she says equitably, now looking at his hands.

“Cirina. You know… I’ve not seen you since the fall of Doma Castle. It’s as though I enter a room, and you leave it; Yugiri always lets me know of your visits, tries to catch me in time to no avail. You used to always be nearby… I miss you. What happened?”

“I…” He _missed_ her? “I did not wish to pressure you.”

“So you vanished?” He doesn’t seem to be upset, thankfully, but there is a peculiar sort of focus to his face. “That’s hardly fair.” Hien sets his teacup down with a clink of finality. “You were there for me that day. I appreciate that more than you know. But I realized in the aftermath that you’d been avoiding me, assumed perhaps you’d had second thoughts, or that I had done aught to offend you…”

“Of course not,” she whispers, throat dry all of a sudden. “I just…”

They stare at each other.

“We can’t,” she reminds him as he begins to lean closer. “Hien, you know that. It simply… would not work.”

She needs not explain herself for him to know what she means. “I know,” is all he replies, his eyes still searching hers for some give. Something, anything. He ducks his face low when he doesn’t find it, even in the gentle glow of her limbal rings.

Cirina watches him still, unable to tear her eyes away.

“As you say,” he relents. “I am bound by my duty to my country, and you to your people, and your gods. However…”

This is their first time in a safe, _private_ environment in a long time. She can’t help but let her mind wander when he trails off like that, something warm and needy bubbling up in her chest.

“If I may field the suggestion… is it not possible that the gods meant for you to be here right now?”

Her eyes wander, too. They settle on his hand as it rises closer to her shoulder.

“That the reunion they meant was for two people like you and I, and not the celestial lovers?”

He can see the tiny freckles around her nose at this distance, and she the individual strands of his facial hair. This is dangerous territory to tread. But if, as he says, the gods willed it… just this one time…

“… _Wishes granted, even if not in the way we might desire them…”_

If Orihime herself fell from the sky this very moment and offered to grant her one wish, she could ask for nothing more. That is the impulse that goes through her once their lips touch, and she is swept away.

But as they meet in the middle, a peal of thunder sounds outside, causing them both to pull back in hesitation, as if feeling caught by the storm.

“Maybe we should,” she swallows against the lump in her throat, “go back to your room…”

“If you go in there…” Hien pauses. “Well, I want you to _want_ to go in there. If you would accompany me just a little longer, Cirina…”

Something about the glint in his eyes strikes her like the very lightning outside, eroding away at her self-control in one powerful crash. “We cannot speak of this to anyone.”

“Indeed. But let us away before we lose the chance.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


She’s wondered what kind of kisser he would be, in idle moments.

Gentle and warm, like the light she’s seen in his eyes a time or two when he looks at her? In-control, like the image of a ruler he takes great pains to maintain? Or just… _heated,_ like the sparks that go off between them when they’re not being careful?

As unlikely as it sounds, it turns out to be a bit of all three.

The sliding door closes behind them, and she’s barely three steps in when they kiss for real this time. He’s anything but diffident as he pulls her small body flush against him, as his mouth lands on hers. She makes a noise of surprise, but allows the gesture; Hien dips his tongue tentatively into her mouth, testing how far she is willing to go. When she replies by opening her mouth more in offering, he makes a sound in the back of his throat that can only be described as a _growl_ — and a jolt skates through all her limbs from her core.

Cirina takes a deep breath as they both pull away.

“Why me?” she asks earnestly. “Why not someone like Yugiri?”

“Yugiri has scarcely been interested in indulgences. Why, I would say she’s spent more time organizing our heartfelt reunion than in thinking about such things for herself.”

He guides her to the bed — curiously, a Western-style bed, not like the futons of the guest rooms — and sits her down. He had changed into a different haori, similar to the last one with the exception of being dry and perhaps a shade or two lighter; she cannot help but wonder if he did it on purpose. If he’d truly been thinking about it all this time.

It’s partially her fault for letting him worm into her head and her heart so deeply in the first place, of course. They had spoken of their hopes for the future, and they had never mutually been a part of each other’s visions. That has not changed, she knows, but now she wonders if his thoughts, his what-ifs have always run so parallel to hers.

To be honest, a lot of it had been that she’d been afraid of the intensity of what she felt for him. But now…

“Your hands are like ice!” she yelps at the contact as he opens her robe, clapping a hand over her mouth afterward.

“Shh. You shall be warmer in here.” He leaves her briefly to pull back the comforter, patting the mattress for her to shuffle inside. She obliges, pulling the cover back over herself and burrowing in. Hien joins her soon after, moving around to the other side and dropping his outer layer so that he is only left in a thin yukata.

And then, his mind is on autopilot as he rolls her towards him, wanting to touch every ilm of her bare skin and the scales adorning it. She only moves only a fraction of an inch closer, but now he can feel parts of her just barely brushing parts of him: her breasts against his chest, one thigh sliding against his. His hands slide down her bare back to her hips, rubbing at the scales there, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself.

He studies her for a moment. She wonders what he sees.

Then she yelps a second time as he moves, abruptly, turning her onto her back and moving so that he's on top of her, most of his weight taken up by his arms, but, oh, how the rest of that weight is distributed…

The view in the lanternlight is a fine one, so she makes a show of running her eyes down his body, or what she can glean of it from under the covers — the most of it she’s seen yet. Then her hands run down his back, over the cotton fabric, pulling down firmly when she reaches the small of his back to rock her hips against his.

Ah. The noise he makes is exceptionally satisfying. The more she manages to pull out of him, the more emboldened she becomes. But to her surprise, he takes another shuddering breath, then moves away a fraction of an inch, giving her a _look_ that has her both flushed and a bit frustrated.

The frustration vanishes, though, when he leans forward a little, whispering in her ear in that tone that sends chills down her spine without so much as a brush of fingertips. "In a hurry?"

A crack of thunder again, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminates the room. "No," she tells him, reaching back up to curl her hands about his shoulders. "Why?"

Yes, she could grow to… love… that smile. Her innate surprise at even a mental use of that word is sidelined, though, as he kisses her again, tongue tracing her lips, before moving his mouth to her jaw, her collarbone, her…

His mouth traces, then closes around, a nipple, warm and insistent.

A few minutes later, he raises his head and she wants to kiss the smirk off his face. “Doing all right?”

"I’m fine." She tries to pull his head back down, but he resists.

"I figure, we have some time here..."

"That doesn't mean you can't… oh…" He's returned his mouth to its previous position, but his right hand, oh, his hand, with those long, sensitive fingers, is tracing her other nipple, her breast, then trailing downward against her stomach, her thighs. Her body is still damp from the rain, and gooseflesh raises on her skin.

"Are you saying you'd like me to _do_ something else?"

She holds her breath a moment, then finds her answer can wait no longer. "Yes! I… ohhh…"

“You’ve become quite eager.”

“I’m afraid I will offer no apology,” Cirina mumbles. “This was… _You_ are hard to resist.”

“As are you.” He dips his head below the top of the blanket suddenly, moving down, down her body, all the way towards her groin when she feels him kiss the inside of her thigh. Her fingers flex anxiously.

The silence breaks with a gasp when she his tongue on her slick folds. Cirina has to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out too loudly as Hien continues, her hands reaching down and twisting into dark, damp hair that tickles at the sides of her thighs. The way she slowly unravels under his touch is beautiful, something he would wish to capture in a jar somehow, in something more than just his memories if given the chance.

In the meantime, Hien’s hands, wonderfully rough with sword-calluses, sweep up over the muscle of her thighs, glide over her ribs, making her breathe in sharply, and then settle down at her hips. His thumbs stroke carefully, gently, thrillingly over the soft skin of her sides and belly, building the charge that continues to gather deep within her.

“You’re wet,” he remarks from under the blanket, having lifted his face from her slit and replaced it with his fingers instead. Her whole body vibrates as warmth spreads and no doubt her cheeks are flushed with vivid color. As he sits up, the covers go with him, pushing back behind him to reveal her to the open air. “Gorgeous…”

She’s never been spoken to with such conviction and lust before. “We got caught in the rain,” she says wryly as she chokes back a moan when his fingers slide along her seam, “remember?”

Hien chuckles against her skin as he kisses the top of her collarbone, his stubble leaving faint tickling sensations along the way. Soon, he takes his fingers away as well, and it’s all she can do to arch her hips up to chase her pleasure, but she is met with a strong push downward and the blunt tip of his cock rubbing against her.

“Hien,” she pleads, though she isn’t entirely sure what she is pleading for. Mercy? Or lack thereof? “Don’t come on the inside,” she adds once her scrambled thoughts come together to remind her of the _additional_ dangers of this sort of rendezvous.

“I’ll be careful,” he breathes, then leans to kiss her again, more raw and all-encompassing than before. It turns out there is a purpose to it, however, when she feels him sheath himself inside her in one swift motion, and he swallows the resulting groan from her.

“Is this your first?” he asks.

“Yes…” A pause. “Is it yours?”

“It is.”

He moves his hands to her hips as hers press upon his chest. Understanding passes between them. She can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the hammering of his heart, the heat in his blood.

Hien goes slow at first, finding the rhythm easily. She notices he’s trembling as he does so, and finds herself even more transfixed when she realizes it’s because he’s trying to take it slow, to honor his word of not letting himself go inside of her.

Be that as it may, she still needs more. Tightening her legs (and drawing a lovely groan from Hien as she does), Cirina pulls her arms around his shoulders and raises her back, changing the angle of the tension.

“Cirina,” he says to her, stopping momentarily, “this request cannot leave this room, but… if you call my name… can you… ah, would you call me Shun? Just for this moment?”

She looks up, and he gazes back, his eyes fixed on her like she was a treasure more precious than anything ever found in Doma’s vault, past or present.

“Okay,” she says, not questioning the reason why. A knot forms in the pit of her stomach, however, at the realization he might be asking her to call him by his real name, rather than one taken on to indicate his birth.

They continue, her hands ever busy drawing aimless patterns along his skin as he moves. It should embarrass her, _would_ at any other time, but in this moment, she can’t be ashamed of her body’s honest response to him. She clamps down on him, and though Hien doesn’t respond in words, there is no mistaking his reaction. He bucks harder, control disappearing. His grip on her hips, so gentle up until then, tightens, and his thrusts come harder, deeper, each of them accompanied by a quiet grunt of effort. The desperation she’s driven him to shines clearly in his flushed face, the little trickles of sweat drawing lines over his body. He is approaching the brink, and right now, she wants nothing more than to tumble over with him.

Cirina realizes, as if from a great distance, that she is mouthing his name, his _real_ name, over and over again, and he’s saying hers, panting it as he moves. If there are other words on their lips, they are forgotten by the time he withdraws urgently and strokes himself to completion, seizing up with an intense expression as she feels his release paint her belly.

The fog in his eyes clears quickly, after a few bleary blinks, and he realizes she has still not yet come. So he dives low again, pressing his mouth back to her slit to lap the strands of his release away, and Cirina is lost shortly thereafter, his hands holding her rock-steady as her whole body freezes, tightens, then relaxes all at once.

After that long moment of stillness, she moves, leaning forward for another lingering kiss, then stretches out next to him, skin against skin, all the distance gone for good. He pulls the blankets back up over them, then turns a little, mouth against her hair, feeling the warmth of her along every inch.

“Cirina…”

“…Shun.”

Neither of them have more words for this moment.

Not quite yet.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Hien?”

He hums, rolling his head over to look at her.

“What are we calling this?”

He’d been mostly asleep, content in the little cocoon they’d made for themselves. Cirina’s head pillows on his shoulder, her legs entangled with his. It’s still pitch black out, and there’s still an occasional rumble of thunder, but the bulk of the storm has passed.

“Is it a one time thing?” she continues quietly. “What they call, um, friends with benefits? A… relationship?”

“What do you want it to be?” He tries to keep what he is feeling out of his voice. Not, he thinks, entirely successfully.

“Well… it would be wiser to keep feelings out of… this.”

 _Too late,_ she scolds herself internally.

“I wish we could call it something more than a one-time thing…” She nuzzles her face into his shoulder a little deeper. “And yet, I think at this point, we’re a little past friends. I don’t want to go backwards.”

“…Indeed,” he agrees. “I don’t think I can anymore.” The comment has the air of a confession.

“Nor can I.”

Their eyes meet. They’re still not quite _there_ , perhaps never will be.

Perhaps not yet.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“My lord,” Yugiri calls as she taps lightly on the screen. “Are you awake? ‘Tis well past sunrise…”

Hien emerges alone, dressed in his usual attire, and somehow, Yugiri cannot help the drop in her stomach.

“You look disappointed. Were you expecting someone else?”

She shakes her head. “Ah— Not at all. It is simply not like you to oversleep so.”

“I suppose so… I myself am not sure why I yet linger in here.”

“Shall I go wake Cirina?”

Hien steps out of his room and closes the door behind him. “There is no need; she is already well on her way home.”

“She—” The look of disappointment returns. Glancing behind him before he shuts the door reveals a pristinely made bed and nothing out of the ordinary. “I see… I suppose even a raging storm could not keep her for long.”

“It kept her long enough,” Hien replies with a shrug. Yugiri’s eyes follow him as he passes her to return to the main room, and after a pause, she turns to walk in the same direction.

“’Tis a shame. I had truly hoped perhaps _this_ Tanabata would provide clearer skies, so that you might enjoy your time with her…”

“But I did,” Hien says. “Thank you, Yugiri. And… mayhap I’d be asking too much of the gods, but would that the skies opened up on such occasions more often!”

And with that sentiment, he steps outside, leaving a perplexed Yugiri to watch and wonder.


End file.
